Frost
by immywrites
Summary: It's Christmas in Atlantis, but all is not as it seems. An unknown person has been snatching young boys off the streets in the dead of the night, and as Jason, Pythagoras and Hercules investigate, it's soon clear that it is not a human being that is taking these boys, but a demon made of ice.
1. Chapter 1

'What on _earth _is that?' Pythagoras questioned as he walked into the kitchen. The sky glowed red, informing Pythagoras that it was the beginning of a new day. It wasn't the small glimmer of light shining onto his eyelids that woke him, however. It had been the loud crash that had drawn him from his slumber and brought him tiredly into the kitchen, where he found Jason knelt over the severed branch of a fir tree, decorating it with coloured ribbon. Rubbing his tired eyes, he let out a yawn and fell into the nearest chair. His hair still stood on end and his eyes were red, and as Jason caught sight of his dishevelled friend he let out a small chuckle.

'It's a branch, silly.' Jason teased, his hands buried in a pile of ribbon and dead leaves. Pythagoras' eyes scanned the dirt covered floor and he let out an irritated sigh at the sight of Jason's muddy footprints leading from the door to where he now knelt.

'Sorry, did I wake you?' Pythagoras shrugged and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to neaten it.

'No, no, I wasn't really asleep.' Jason pushed to his feet and stretched his aching limbs. He'd been knelt by the branch for an hour at least, trying to decorate it appropriately. It hadn't even crossed his mind until he'd seen the faint dusting of snow on his windowsill the previous night, but the second he'd been reminded of Winter, the thought of Christmas hadn't left him. He'd snuck out around midnight in search of the perfect tree and he'd been slightly disappointed when he realized that he wouldn't have the strength to carry it back home alone, so he'd settled for the large, waist high branch instead.

'What _are _you doing with that branch?' Pythagoras asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

'It's December.' Jason replied, a wide grin on his face. Christmas had always been his favourite time of the year. Snow and family and presents. It gave him a sense of hope. 'You have Christmas, right?'

'What's Christmas?' Pythagoras rested his head on the tabletop, briefly shutting his eyes. His head pounded and it made him feel a little nauseous, but he'd grown used to the occasional headache. The summers in Atlantis could be almost unbearable, but Pythagoras had learned to ignore it over time.

'It's... well it's _Christmas_! You know, you give presents and eat turkey and sing awful songs around the piano... Christmas.' Jason did his best to explain, but he found himself lost for words. He had never had to explain Christmas to anyone before. 'You don't have Christmas?' he mumbled, a little disheartened. Pythagoras lifted his head and looked down at the crooked branch. It was an ugly thing, mostly dead and rotten with only a few dark green leaves left hanging from it. The addition of bright yellow ribbon did nothing to make it look any better. Pythagoras thought it seemed strange, having the limb of a tree in the corner of the kitchen, but at the same time he thought it wondrous that such a tradition could exist. He'd never seen such a sight before.

'No, we don't. But I guess we _could_. What would I have to do, exactly?' The question saddened Jason in a way he couldn't explain. Christmas was the one thing he'd truly enjoyed back home in London, and he missed home more than anything; he missed his car, and his mobile and his computer. He'd give anything to see his bulldog, Arthur, again. Ever since he'd arrived in Atlantis, he'd felt that he stuck out. His appearance, the way he talked. Even his curly hair drew comments from strangers. He just didn't fit in with anyone or anything and it was so painfully obvious to him. Jason pulled out the chair opposite Pythagoras and sat. Suddenly, he was hit by a wave of nausea not dissimilar to homesickness. It was the first time he'd really thought about London and as he threaded a strand of ribbon through his fingers, he let out a disheartened sigh.

'You don't _have _to do anything,' His mind flashed back to his childhood; Christmas morning had seemed like the most exciting thing in the world to him back them. Rushing down the stairs and into the living room to find piles of presents awaiting him under the tree, the excitement of hanging the decorations and draping tinsel over the tree with his father.

'What's wrong?' Pythagoras watched his friend closely for a few moments. The sadness was evident on his face, and it sent a wave of something different through his chest. Jason shrugged and wiped an invisible tear from the corner of his eye.

'Nothing.' Pythagoras sat up straighter in his chair and slowly nodded his head. He may have only known Jason for a few months, but already he had strange instincts that told him when something wasn't right. He had at first thought it was rather weird and unnecessary to be overprotective of a man that seemed to fear nothing.

'What's the tree for?' he pushed to his feet and moved towards the decorated branch, reaching a hand out to touch it.

'It's where the presents go,' Jason spun around in his seat. 'Where Santa puts the presents.'

'What's Santa?'

'He's the man that delivers the presents.'

'Delivers them where?' Pythagoras rubbed the back of his neck and turned to look at Jason.

'To the houses.' Jason chuckled at the look of irritation on his friends face. To see someone so genius look so utterly confused never ceased to surprise him. 'You know what, it doesn't matter.'

'No, it matters!' Pythagoras insisted. He looked from the tree to Jason's face and smiled. 'It matters to you, so it matters to me... us, I mean.' The man sunk lower in his chair as he felt a warm flush creep over his cheeks. 'Tell me about this Santa.'

'Well, he's a man that lives in this place called The North Pole. It sits at the very top of the earth, and it's covered in snow and Santa lives there with his family, well, helpers really, the Elves. And the elves are the ones that _make _all the toys for all of the children,' he paused and glanced up at Pythagoras, who gazed back with wonder in his eyes and nodded to tell Jason to continue. 'And he has two lists; one with all the names of the children that have been good, and another for those that have been bad. And the children that have been bad don't get a toy, but-'

'That seems a bit unfair,' Pythagoras interjected. 'Surely a child can't help it if they misbehave?'

'No, I suppose not. But that's just how it works, I guess.'

'Sorry, but... but what?' Pythagoras urged him to go on.

'Well, the bad children get a piece of coal in their stocking instead of a gift. And then Santa, he's the man in charge. He wears a red suit and a silly hat, and he goes around the world in his sleigh when everyone's asleep and slips down the chimney to put the presents underneath the tree.'

'Down the _chimney_?' Jason nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. It was clear that Pythagoras was struggling to follow the story, but he didn't mind one bit.

'Yep. But if you don't _have _a chimney, then he uses a key that opens every door on earth.'

'A key that opens every door cannot possibly exist.' Pythagoras' attention turned to the branch, and he questioned how it was possible for such an unimportant object to mean so much to Jason and his people.

'And how, exactly, does one man travel the world in a single night?' He had always been more of a scientific man than an imaginative one, as a child he'd preferred to sit in his room drawing triangles and squares. The thought of playing with other children bored him then, and even now people still disinterested him in some ways. To him, the thought of a man walking the world in a day seemed impossible. He just couldn't fathom it.

'You should go back to bed,' Jason stated, looking at Pythagoras' paling face. 'You look exhausted.' Pythagoras merely shrugged his shoulders and sighed.

'No, the sun's already up. I'd never get back to sleep now.' Pythagoras grumbled, annoyed. He had never been a morning person.

'Sorry.' Jason mumbled under his breath. He looked at the mess he'd made of the floor. Surely Hercules wouldn't be pleased with him if he came home to find mud everywhere. Jason hadn't thought to remove his shoes at the door. He had intended the tree to be a surprise, but it seemed that Pythagoras was neither surprised nor interested in his Christmas decoration. The man glared down at it with a look of annoyance plastered onto his face.

All Jason had wanted was a normal Christmas. He turned and headed for the window. Throwing it open, he inhaled the fresh, morning air and rested his head against the window pane. It was a beautiful morning, in fact e_very _morning in Atlantis was much the same. The sun was barely up, and the sky was a hundred different shades of red and pink and white. Behind him, Pythagoras shifted.

'Are you all right?' Jason gazed out at the marketplace, watching the small figures as they set up their stalls with a vast array of foods and drink and materials to sell. In the distance, a bird cried loudly, alerting the people of Atlantis that the day had now begun. Jason barely noticed Pythagoras moving to stand next to him, nor did he feel the gentle touch of Pythagoras' hand on his shoulder.

'Jason?'

'I'm fine.'

'Don't lie to me,' Pythagoras' grip on Jason's shoulder tightened. 'I know it must be difficult, being so far from home and all, but-'

'You don't know,' Jason stated with a shake of his head. 'You know nothing about me.'

'I know you.'

'I fell out of the sky and you let me sleep on your floor. Why?'

'Well, you didn't have anywh-'

'_That's_ your problem. You're too nice.' Jason found himself in a sudden fit of anger and sadness. He shook of Pythagoras' grip and walked to the table. Picking up a handful of ribbon, he dropped them into a nearby basket. Pythagoras watched the man, unsure of how to respond to his sudden change in mood.

'You're the one that risked your life for mine the very next day.' He pointed out, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the windowpane.

'What choice did I have? I couldn't let you die, it's _far _too soon.' And it was, of course, his duty to keep history as it was. Who knows what would happen if he hadn't switched places with Pythagoras; he was destined to become a great man, and Jason knew he had to do _something _to ensure that happened. And then when he'd found the man, disoriented and bleeding in that cave he had been reluctant to leave him because he hadn't a clue if he was concussed or bleeding to death. The panic he'd felt when he had returned hours later only to find him gone and a small puddle of blood in his place was almost impossible to describe, and the relief he'd felt when they'd been reunited at the mouth of the cave was equally so. He saved Pythagoras' life because he couldn't afford to mess up history. Looking down at his hands, Jason saw that the ribbon he had previously held was now floating to the ground, but he didn't recall letting it go.

'Jason?' Once again, Pythagoras stood next to the man, but he did not reach out. Instead, he studied his friend; his skin was paling as if he was ill, and he seemed to be trembling. His eyes were filled with fresh tears, but he did not let them fall. The room was silent for a moment or two, but when Jason next spoke, his voice sounded younger, almost child-like, though it was the words that put that small fear in his chest.

'I just want to go home.'

*Hello person that's reading this and how are you today? Probably a lot more bored since you started reading this, so I apologize. I had intended to make this a short one-shot, but I think I might turn it into an actual chaptered story. If you could leave a review, I'd really appreciate it Please and thank you xx*


	2. Chapter 2

_In the brittle chill of the morning, a mother named Violet wakened covered by nothing more than a thin, moth eaten blanket and a dress that did little to keep out the cold. She gave a small yawn and smiled up at the sun; grateful to have survived another harsh night asleep on the streets of Atlantis. In her arms, a baby girl stirred and let out the first whimper of the day. Her empty stomach yearned for a thing it had never tasted, for she was only seven months of age and barely bigger than a newborn. Her mother looked down at her with adoring eyes and gently brushed a stray strand of almost white hair from her child's face._

'_Good morning, Rosa.' She whispered before placing a kiss upon her forehead. The baby gurgled in response, her pain-filled cry ceasing when she spotted her mother's face. The sun was barely up, and yet everywhere she looked people seemed to rush. Glancing over her shoulder, Violet flinched as the bright sun shone directly into her pale green eyes. She plastered a grin on her face and pointed her head to the blanket that lay next to hers._

'_Time to wake up, Robert,' she reached out a hand to shake her teenage son awake, but was surprised to find only empty space. 'Robert?' Gently, Violet moved to her knees, careful not to disturb Rose as she moved. A panic rose in her gut as she lifted the empty blanket into her hands. Thin and dust-brown, it held little trace of her beloved son. She rose to her feet and glanced nervously around the market place, but his face was nowhere. She could not see the bright orange of his hair, nor the almost white of his skin. She took a step forward, her eyes desperately scanning the ever-growing crowd of people, but she could not see him. She dropped the blanket to the ground and called out his name. A few people turned their heads, but as it usually was the majority of the crowd just pretended she was not there. She felt an unfamiliar wetness on her hands, and she lifted them to her face. She did not hear the shrill, terror-filled scream that escaped her lips. All she could see was the deep red that stained her hands._

'Wha- no, you can't leave, Jason.' Pythagoras was unsure of how to react to his friend's announcement. His voice seemed to have brought Jason from his thoughts, for he turned and looked at Pythagoras with a blank, child like expression on his face.

'I mean, you said you _couldn't _return.' Pythagoras stuttered, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Something within Jason snapped, and in a matter of seconds his emotionless expression turned to one of annoyance.

'What the hell would _you _know? You're an _idiot!'_ Jason moved around the kitchen frantically, destroying what he'd so meticulously put together only hours before and throwing its contents into several baskets. No matter how hard Pythagoras tried, he could not calm the man.

'Jason?'

'Three months you've been slaving over that damn theory and you're _still i_n the exact same place you were then. It doesn't take a genius to work it out! My god, I had it memorized by the time I was seven, Pythagoras! _Seven _years old!'

'Wha- I'm not sure-'

'No, of course you're not because you never are,' Jason lifted the now bare log from the ground and flung it through the open window. Both men listened as it hit the ground with a loud crash.

'Jason, I'm _sorry_.' Pythagoras stood in front of Jason, stopping him in his tracks. The man's cheeks were stained with tears. 'I didn't mean to upset you, I just-'

'And you call yourself a genius?' Jason scoffed. He lifted a basket filled with ribbon and leaves and dropped it onto the table. 'You're not! You're nothing more than a simple-minded _idiot_!' With tears spilling freely down his cheeks, Jason moved quickly towards his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Pythagoras flinched at the loud, unwelcome noise.

Everyone ate in silence that morning, nobody knowing quite what to say. Pythagoras sat staring into his plate, absently drawing shapes on the table with his fingers. Jason leaving was the last thing he wanted, but the man seemed so sure that he wanted to go home that Pythagoras had just remained silent as he packed his things. The small case now stood beside the front door, and Pythagoras wanted nothing more than to empty everything back into Jason's room and tell him how stupid he was being. Of course, he wouldn't. He didn't have the courage to tell Jason the true reason he wanted him to stay, no matter how much he wanted to. Looking at Jason now, his heart ached. It had been a few days since he'd realized how much Jason's presence had actually changed him. He was less afraid of voicing his theories on triangles; Jason was always there with words of encouragement and praise. He was more confident about himself, and he felt like less of an outcast now that he was part of this little team of theirs. But now Jason no longer wanted to be a part of it, and Pythagoras felt that he was partly to blame. Hercules looked between Jason and Pythagoras and let out a loud, overdramatic groan.

'What on earth is wrong with you two today?' he questioned, firmly. All morning, both men had appeared to be avoiding each other passionately and he'd just about had enough of the silence.

'If you two don't start talking soon, I'm going to go insane.' Jason's eyes were kept firmly on the door to his bedroom, and though he heard Hercules clearly, he had no intention of speaking. Instead, it was Pythagoras who broke the silence.

'We are talking,' he insisted, smiling brightly at Hercules. 'Perhaps you're just not listening.'

'I'm not stupid, you know. I can see that something's bothering you both, so are you going to tell me or do I have to force it out of you?'

'Nothing's bothering anyone,' Jason's voice was unexpected and it startled Pythagoras. He dropped his gaze back to his breakfast and tried his best to ignore the other man, to _make_ himself care less, but no matter how much he wanted to, he could only think of Jason. 'I'm going to bed.' Pushing to his feet, Jason glanced at Pythagoras before he left the room and fell, face-first onto his bed with a heavy sigh. Maybe he'd been too harsh on Pythagoras, after all he was just trying to help. In the time between him announcing he was leaving, and Hercules returning from the tavern, Jason had insulted not only Pythagoras' work, but the man himself. He had felt a sudden burst of rage at the man's interference, it had almost blinded him. He'd snapped at some point, yelled that he wasn't a genius but an utter fool, and then rushed from the room with warm tears strolling down his cheeks. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the beamed ceiling with no idea of what he should do. Should he leave Atlantis and return home? He didn't even know how he had arrived here, was he just to dive into the sea and hope for the best? His mind raced with all kinds of thoughts, and his heart ached for home. A knock at the door startled him into regaining his composure, and he pushed himself into a sitting position.

'What?' The door opened and Hercules stepped into the room. Jason looked up at him unsurely and a little irritated. 'Look, I told you I'm fi-'

'And I told _you_ that I know something's bothering you.'

'Nothing's bothering _me,_ it's _him _that has the problem.' Jason lied, nodding towards the half open door.

'And what 'problem' would he have, exactly?' Hercules pushed the door gently shut and leaned against it with his arms folded. The room was smaller than he remembered; the bed almost touched both walls, and left no room for much else other than the small, rickety table that held a vase of water and a single yellow flower. Hercules remembered the day it was picked. He and Jason and Medusa were walking in the wood, laughing and talking like they'd known each other for years, though really it had only been a week or so. It was Medusa that had picked the flowers, one for each of them and an extra for Pythagoras, who was sick with the flu. His own flower had died soon after it had been given, but Jason was smart enough to place his in water, and it was still as bright as the day he'd gotten it. Hercules smiled at the memory and gently lifted the flower from its vase.

'I don't know,' Jason mumbled under his breath, unsure of the reason why he was so angry at someone that had done nothing wrong. Pythagoras _never _did anything wrong, and Jason supposed that was the problem. 'Why don't you ask him?'

'Because I know Pythagoras well enough to know he'd never tell me,' Hercules lifted the flower to his nose and took in its sweet smell of honey and grass.

'What makes you think I would?'

'Wishful thinking, perhaps. Maybe you look like you _want _to talk about it.'

'Even if I did,' Jason hugged his knees tightly to his chest. The day had grown cold, and the sky was cloudless. He had hoped that it might snow at some point, but now he wasn't so sure he wanted it to. 'You'd never understand.'

'Well, you'll just have to tell me and find out then, won't you?' Hercules placed the flower back into the water and sat beside Jason on the bed. A warm smile graced his worried features.

'It's nothing, really. Just... well, I kind of told him I was leaving.' Jason rested his chin on his knees.

'What, that's it?' Hercules blurted, teasingly. 'The way you were moping, I'd assumed you were _dying!_'

'No, that's not it,' Jason sighed, regretfully. 'I think I upset him.'

'Well, what did you say?'

'I told him nobody cared about his stupid triangles and that he was a fool for believing that anyone ever would. And that's just the beginning.'

'Well, what on earth did you say _that _for?' Hercules berated. He pushed to his feet and looked down at Jason with accusing eyes. 'Of course he's going to be upset you insulted his life's work!'

'I know, and I'm sorry, I truly am. But,' Jason ran an anxious hand through his hair and dropped his gaze to the floor. 'I don't know what came over me, one minute I was upset about being away from home and the next, I'm shouting and I-'

'Well whatever happened, you'd better fix it.' Hercules left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Jason looked after him anxiously. Surely he'd _have _to leave now. He was sure that Hercules was mad at him now, too, and Jason could barely handle Pythagoras not talking to him for an hour at most. Moving to the window, Jason let out a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut. Even if he couldn't return to London, he was sure he could find another city a few miles away, or even a cave in the wood to spend his nights. With a smile on his lips, Jason climbed onto the windowsill and tried to judge the distance between where he knelt and the roof of the opposite house. He guessed that, even if he missed, he'd have no more than a sprained ankle or a broken wrist. Taking a deep breath, Jason let go of the window pain, and though his heart sped up when he realized he had missed the roof, the smile remained on his lips.

*hello again :) I know this chapter is kind of confusing? I just didn't really know how to start off again with the boys, and I know I missed out the actual argument but I hope I've written enough so that you know what happened. Thanks for actually reading this, I really appreciate it, and don't forget to leave a review! I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing :)*


	3. Chapter 3

Pythagoras gently knocked on the door of Jason's bedroom and leaned his forehead against the cool wood. It had been hours since he'd last seen his friend, in fact he hadn't heard a sound from the room since Hercules had spoken to him. The sun was beginning to go down, and a cold plate of food sat on the table, waiting.

'Jason?' He waited a few minutes, but got no reply. He assumed that Jason was either asleep or ignoring him; the latter most likely. After their argument that morning, the air in the house seemed thicker and Pythagoras found it difficult to be around. He wanted things to go back to how they had been before he opened his mouth and upset Jason by insulting his beloved Christmas tree. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked at the messy pile of ribbon and the layer of green that had fallen from the fir tree and a pang of guilt hit him. He hadn't meant to upset Jason, but he was half asleep and the man insisted on banging about his bedroom. Pythagoras hadn't realised at the time that he was packing his things, ready to leave. He hadn't known that Jason was serious about going home until he had rushed from his bedroom, case in hand, and flung open the front door.

'Look, I'm really sorry about this morning. Jason?' He rested his hand on the doorknob, unsure of whether to go in or not. If Jason was asleep and Pythagoras woke him, he would surely be angrier, and that was the exact opposite of what Pythagoras wanted. Of course, if he _was _just ignoring him, it would be better to talk face-to-face than through a piece of wood. The deafening silence was swiftly broken by a loud crash from the other side of the door.

'Jason?' Pythagoras threw the door open and stepped precariously into the room. Looking around, Jason was nowhere to be seen. His bed was unmade, and on the floor a small, yellow flower lay in a mess of water and broken glass. Pythagoras looked to the open window, and as he realized that Jason must have jumped out of it, he groaned hopelessly. It was below freezing outside, and a thin layer of snow covered the cobblestones. Pythagoras leaned on the wooden windowsill and leaned his head outside. The streets had almost emptied, people were heading home to their families and Jason was out there all alone.

The decision to go out searching for him wasn't a difficult one for Pythagoras and he was out the door within minutes of finding Jason gone. He wandered the streets for what seemed like hours. Pulling the coat he'd borrowed from Hercules tightly around his shoulders, he quickened his pace.

It was an unpleasantly cold winter's night; dark and mystifying. The moon was sheltered by the murky looming clouds, but Jason could tell it was directly above him in the sky. A painful itch spread across the back of his hand, and Jason felt as if someone were digging a million tiny needles into his skin. He rubbed it roughly against his trouser leg, but all that did was make it burn.

Jason felt uneasy and strangely insecure in the dark. There were no street lights in Atlantis, electricity hadn't been invented yet and it was difficult to navigate the many alleyways and side-streets that he hadn't yet walked. The city seemed like a maze to him now. He wandered aimlessly, his mind on autopilot and his legs turning painfully numb. His eyes were unfocused and tired. He longed to be back home in London, in his bed with a cup of hot coffee and a nice, warm meal. He missed his friends, and his job and his dog. But most of all, his missed the normalcy of it all. He looked up to the sky, disheartened. He'd never seen so many stars in all his life. They filled the entirety of the sky, shining brightly.

He stopped walking and took in what he could see of his surroundings. His hand was pressed firmly against a rough cobbled wall. He could make out odd shapes, but nothing was clear to him anymore. He assumed he was leaning against a house, and directly in front of him he thought he could see a market stall, empty and covered in a layer of snow. He ran a numbing hand through his hair, utterly confused and unsure of where to go next. Maybe leaving had been a bad idea. He had only really been in Atlantis for a few months, and the only times he'd left the walls of the city he'd been with Hercules and Pythagoras. Never by himself. He turned a full circle, seeking out any sign of human life. There was none. His bare arms felt heavy, as if they had turned to ice, but he knew that could not be. Who ever heard of a human turning to ice?

_Jack Frost gazed down upon the silent city, his eyes fixed on his next meal. Alone and afraid, he seemed the perfect victim. Spreading his bird-like wings, Jack Frost lifted high into the air, before swooping low to the ground and knocking the lonesome boy to the ground. He let out a yelp of surprise, of course. They always did. A cry of 'who's there' followed closely, the boys voice nervous and filled with fear. He lay unmoving in the snow, and Jack struck fast. His piercing pick-like fingers dug into his stomach, pinning him to the ground. _

'_Jason!_' He was on high alert as he searched the streets for Jason, calling out his name every few minutes in case he'd somehow walked right past him. So far, it had been of no use. He'd received no replies, he'd passed no people. Atlantis was a ghost town, deathly quiet and lifeless. Pausing to catch his breath, Pythagoras saw a dark shape lay on the ground in front of him, a fairly large satchel made of thick, black leather.

As Pythagoras moved closer he felt uneasy, as if someone were out there watching him. Of course, he could see no one. Kneeling beside the satchel, he saw that the snow around it had been disturbed, and fear coursed through Pythagoras when he saw it was surrounded by small drops of blood. Behind him came the sound of light footsteps, growing closer. Pythagoras jumped to his feet and spun around, and as a frozen hand reached out towards him, he stumbled backwards and fell to the ground.

/ Oh my god! This chapter was a nightmare to get out haha :) It took three days before I could even get the first sentence. But it's done! And I'm sorry it gets kind of bad towards the end, because I totally lost all ability to word at that point, so... Enjoy! And please leave a review/


	4. Chapter 4

/Quick note for Princess Shania – I changed my mind halfway through writing this chapter :)/

Pythagoras was surrounded by nothingness. No people, no animals. No trees or houses or market stalls. It seemed that he was in a new place entirely, a place that was empty and lifeless. Walls stood tall, reaching high into the clouds. The road went on for what looked like miles, stretching far into the distance. Pythagoras sat cross-legged on the ground, confused as to how Atlantis had changed so quickly and unnoticeable. The snow still fell, soft and barely noticeable. There were no stars in the night sky, only blackness.

'_Hello_?' Pythagoras called out four or five times at least, but all he got in reply was an echo of his own voice. He got to his feet and turned in a full circle before beginning to walk. The memory of Jason was fading from his mind, and yet he knew he must escape somehow and return to Atlantis. He knew there was a reason for him being out in the cold so late at night, but no matter how hard he tried to remember he simply couldn't. He felt his mind slowly draining of memories, and he was frightened. He knew his legs ached, but he could barely feel it. This place was drugging him, making him feel nothing but numbness and confusion and fear, and Pythagoras wasn't sure what was real anymore. Was this even Atlantis? He felt like he had been walking for days, in an endless cycle of left and right and left again. It was mind numbing. He knew he should stop for a rest, but he had to find his way back home. He had to get back to Jason and Hercules so he could sit by the fire and drink a mug of warm water.

A noise reached his ears, a howl of sorts. It appeared to have come from behind him, and he glanced back over his shoulder but saw nothing but the snowfall and the blackness of night. He began to walk again, but only made it a few steps before he heard yet another sound, closer this time. He tried to walk quicker, but his legs would not comply. A moment later they stopped working altogether, and he fell, landing on his back in the snow. It felt as if he'd been struck by lightning; a bolt of ice-cold pain entered the top of his skull and moved through him, piercing his heart and chilling his bones, twisting his stomach and causing his legs to shake before leaving through the bottom of his feet. Pythagoras gripped the bottom of his tunic tightly in an attempt to stop his hands from shaking, but they did so anyway. From the darkness in front of him came a loud, dangerous growl.

Pythagoras shuffled backwards in the snow until his back was flat against a wall. The snow had turned his hands bright red, and they were dotted with small cuts from the pebbles and ice that he was so tightly clenching in his fist. His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to break through his ribcage and escape his body. He could not see clearly, but he knew someone was there, moving towards him with swift precision in the darkness. Pythagoras felt the being's eyes hunting him, taking in every inch of his fragile body. A chill was in the air, but it was different somehow. It cut through his bones like a blade through a spider web, freezing the blood in his veins and turning his heart to ice. Pythagoras lifted a hand to his chest. He gripped his shirt tightly and tried to push himself to his knees, but he was frozen in place by an unseen force.

A figure emerged from the shadows, directly in front of Pythagoras and a shock of terror hit him for it did not look human. On its knees it stood, bent awkwardly to one side with its left arm buried deep under the snow. The hair on its head was long and blood-red, and it dragged behind the creature in the snow as it moved agonisingly slowly towards Pythagoras. It crawled through the snow, one hand reaching out for the terrified man. A devilish grin was etched onto its face exposing a set of razor sharp teeth that were tinted red. As the creature neared Pythagoras, it became clear that there were no eyes upon its pale face, but two black holes where they should have been. Pythagoras tried to call out for help, but all that escaped his lips was a whimper. The creature stood almost directly in front of him now, the size of a large wolf. Pythagoras squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to the gods that he would die quickly and without pain. He prepared himself for the beast's razor-sharp teeth sinking into his flesh, but nothing came. And then he heard the faint hint of a voice, soft and sweet.

'Don't be afraid.' Pythagoras opened his eyes. Warm tears blurred his vision, but he could clearly see the small girl that stood before him, a bunch of white flowers in her hand. She was simply a child, no older than seven years. Her skin was as pale as the creatures had been, but her hair was raven black and her cheeks rose red. She wore a dress made of silk and ribbon, and her eyes were the darkest blue Pythagoras had ever seen. Though the grin on her face warned him otherwise, Pythagoras was sure this girl was not the creature he had been so frightened of.

'Who are you?' Pythagoras yawned. He was truly exhausted, and he was sure that he was dreaming, though his heart still pounded in his ribcage. He opened his mouth to talk, but no words would come out. He tried once again to get to his knees, but he was still frozen in place. The girl knelt beside him and touched his cheek, and the grin fell from her face.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, looking away from Pythagoras. 'But I'm afraid it's already too late for you.'


	5. Chapter 5

_Jack Frost swam through the air, his bat-like wings long and graceful. His eyes were pointed skyward and he frowned both curiously and anxiously. The sun would be rising soon, and he knew that he must hurry if he were to feed again. In the distance, the palace lights glowed brightly, beckoning him nearer. He swooped low to the ground, lifting a handful of ice-cold snow in his twisted, broken hand and rubbing it into his skin. He knew he must he keep cold, or else he would be turned to water by morning. _

_He paused at a house, small and shed-like, and pressed his disfigured nose against the thin glass. His breath touched the glass, sending shocks of ice through it and into the house. A young child lay on the other side, safely tucked up in bed and cradling a small bear. He looked no older that five or six, a fair-haired lad with light freckles across his cheeks and nose. He slept peacefully, dreaming on anything and everything that a child's mind could think up. Jack's eyes widened in hunger and he pawed angrily at the glass that separated him from his meal. The child stirred in his bed and rolled onto his back, exposing an arm of fresh, tanned flesh. Jack's mouth watered. His eyes scanned the room for a way in, and there were two. A thick door made of oak stood directly opposite the window, shut tightly to keep out the light from the other rooms. But the thought of traipsing through an entire house, silently and slowly, caused Jack's mind to numb. Instead his bird-like talons gripped the wall precariously and he began to climb, bent awkwardly to one side. His twisted bones did him well, and he reached the rooftop quickly. He kept to his knees as he moved towards the large, open chimney. Upon reaching it, he took a deep breath and leapt into the darkness, hitting the charcoal and logs with a soft thud._

'_Knock knock.' The words were breathless and quieter than a whisper. He crept from the fireplace, leaving soot and black footprints in his wake. He straightened his spine and pressed his body close to the shadows, ensuring he was hidden from all eyes. He knocked, two times, on the wall. Softly but firmly, just enough to wake the young child from his slumber. He rolled again, onto his side this time, and his eyes slowly opened. He appeared to look straight at Jack, but that could not be for if he had laid his eyes upon the creature that hid in the shadows, he would surely have screamed. The child looked around the room, searching for what had woken him. Jack grinned his devilish grin and lifted his hand to knock again, louder this time. The young boy visibly flinched. _

'_Knock. Knock.' He made his voice an octave lower and added a small growl as he finished speaking. The young boy, as bravely as a child could be, called out:_

'_Whose there?' in a voice that sounded like happiness itself. Jack held back a groan of disgust and slithered along the wall, moving closer to the child's bed. He dragged his sharp claws along the wall, making a noise that echoed loudly around the room. Jack reach the corner and knocked again, this time on the headboard of the boy's bed. He blended with the shadows as he dropped to his knees, his pale, almost see-through arm reached out towards the blanket that hung from the bed._

'_Knock.' He crawled agonizingly slowly towards the bed, stopping once he could feel the softness of the blanket in his fist. 'Knock.' Again, the child replied to him, his voice now laced with an innocent fear that smelled glorious to Jack. His mouth watered with anticipation and the starving hunger that tempted him to pounce that very second. _

_A noise from the hallway drew Jack's attention. Footsteps, it appeared, and a rustling of clothes. Without hesitation, Jack drew back against the wall. The door creaked open, and a man appeared. The child's father, Jack guessed, judging by the way the child rushed to him with open arms. His words only confirmed it._

'_Daddy, daddy! There's someone in my room!' The child buried his face into the man's chest and wrapped his hands around his neck tightly. As the man moved around the room, lighting corners with the candle that he held in his hands, Jack moved too. On his knees he moved in a peculiar fashion; first, his left leg untwisted itself from his body and stretched towards the fireplace, soon followed by his arm. His chest was kept low to the floor. Not once did his pointed chin leave the cold hard wood. He slowly pulled his torso towards his outstretched limbs and became nothing more than an odd shadow on the floor, and that was the way he moved to his escape, his eyes fixed on the exposed flesh of the child's neck and face. _

_The second he reached the opening, Jack Frost shot up the chimney and back out into the night, his wings spread and his knees stuck tightly to his chest, as if he were a nesting bird. The snow welcomed him like an old friend, and soon he was far from the small house and approaching that palace. He perched atop a tree and gazed at a young woman that sat, alone in the courtyard. A green cloak covered her face, but Jack knew her by the way she walked. She was princess Ariadne, and she was his next victim._

_/_Less words that I'd have liked, but I didn't want to give away too much about Mr. Frost yet. I'm still working on his appearance and such. Thank you for not giving up at Chapter 1, I actually do appreciate it. As always, please review!/


	6. Chapter 6

He was sure it was a dream at first; a warm, tempting fraud that would drag him deeper into the abyss. It glowed bright in the distance, a warm welcoming orange dotted with yellow and red. As he neared, Pythagoras realized it was a campfire. He crouched behind a bush and scanned the area with his greying eyes. The woods that surrounded the small clearing appeared empty, but he could not be sure. The moon had dissolved into nothingness, leaving only a black, starless sky and casting multiple shadows across the area. When he was sure it was safe, Pythagoras crept from his hiding spot and rushed towards the fire, stretching out his hands to warm them. His mind raced with thoughts of home; of Jason and Hercules, of his triangles and his warm bed. Their faces were blurred and fading from his mind. He could hear the loud, booming voice of Hercules and Jason's loud but gentle laugh, but he could no longer picture their faces.

He moved to lay on his back in the snow and soon he was slowly dozing off; the sounds of the forest merged into one, softly buzzing in his ears. He was surrounded by life, though he knew he must be dead. His body was frail and not used to the harsh winter chill. He was sure that he must have fallen asleep somewhere in Atlantis and turned to a block of ice. The thought of an unsuspecting civilian finding his body sent a pang of guilt through him. He should have just remained in the house until Jason returned himself; he had been stupid to go out so late at night. Of course, Pythagoras knew that if he'd had trouble finding his way through the streets then Jason would surely be in more trouble. The man had only been in the city for a month or so, while Pythagoras had been there since he was a boy.

His mind had become blank, and his eyes were heavy, but the sound of a twig breaking kept him from drifting off. His eyes slowly opened, and Pythagoras was startles to find a figure stood on the other side of the fire. Tall and muscular, he recognised the man immediately, though he spoke with a voice that was not his own.

'You found it, then.'

/

Jason groaned in agony when he tried to move his frost-bitten arms. He lifted his head and a sharp ache spread through his spine. His arms were suspended above his head by a chain, which was nailed tightly to the rough stone wall. Frozen rivers of water snaked from his wrists, down to his shoulders and across his bare chest, and his skin was dotted with small icicles. He looked around the open, unfamiliar space. It appeared completely empty, but the harder he looked the clearer Jason could see small human like shapes, stood around him in a semi-circle. Their heads were raised to the sky, and their arms outstretched.

'Hey!' Jason called out desperately. The figures remained still, as if frozen. He assumed that he must have fallen asleep in the snow and that he was currently dreaming and was really safe and warm in his bed. In London. But the dream was all too real, and Jason couldn't stand the thought of his friends simply being a figment of his imagination. Looking around him now, he was sure that Atlantis had been devoured by the snow, and it seemed nothing more than a distant memory that could not be proven real.

The first thing Jason saw was his eyes, though at first he thought they were two black stones. They were as black as night and as empty as the sky, and they peered up at him with a look Jason had never seen before. A look of pure insanity. It took a few moments for him to realize that whomever those eyes belonged to was buried under the snow, laying in wait for his prey to notice. Jason leaned forward a little in an attempt to see clearer. He struggled to make out any shape in the snow. It was then that he saw the grin, wide and horrifying. It showed many sets of razor-sharp teeth, stained red with blood, a snake-like tongue protruded from his mouth, reaching out for Jason's flesh. Jason flinched backwards and pressed himself against the wall, trying his hardest to ignore the throbbing pain in his shoulders.

The creature moved so slowly that Jason barely noticed it. His shoulders appeared, followed by his arms. His skin was almost see through and looked like it was made of glass, a thin layer of snow stuck to it. He moved through the snow as if it were water, his speed increasing as the scent of Jason's fear reached his nose. He appeared to be walking upright; his upper body was all that Jason could see, and the sight of it made him nauseous. The creature's bones looked like they had been snapped in two and twisted, repositioned into unnatural shapes and bent at awkward angles. His right arm was bent out at the elbow, and only three shattered fingers pointed to the sky. The bones in his neck protruded from his skin, leaving an open wound that allowed clumps of snow inside. Jason retched and tried to bend over, but he was held in place by the shackles around his wrist.

'Who are you?' He whimpered. Fear ripped through him, twisting his stomach and making his heart beat so fast Jason thought he'd have a heart attack. It hit against his ribcage painfully, making Jason breathless and light-headed. He tried to move backwards, to escape the monster that had captured him, though he knew that he could not. The creature pressed his hands firmly against the ground and pulled himself from the snow. His legs seemed lifeless; they dragged behind him as he shuffled forward on his stomach, one hand reached out towards Jason. When he was near enough, he gripped Jason's exposed ankle painfully. His touch cut through Jason's nerves like a knife through a spider's web, sending fire through his body and causing him to cry out in a desperate kind of whimper. His legs gave out beneath him and his body fell limp, increasing the pressure on his shoulders and wrists. The creature looked to the sky, his beady eyes unfocused.

'Don't you remember me?' he let out a child-like giggle. Moving his hand up to Jason's knee, he dug his claws into his flesh and pulled himself to his knees. His grin widened as Jason let out a cry of agony. Squeezing his eyes shut, a tear rolled down his cheek. The creature opened his mouth, and spoke with the voice of a child.

'Oh, _Jason!_ How could you forget?' Jason's feet felt cold and numb, but he could barely feel anything anymore. He looked down at the creature. The hand that was dug deeply into his calf was slowly turning fleshy and pink, as if he was absorbing Jason's skin and turning it into his own. As he watched, the creature's hand slid up to Jason's stomach. Once again, his claws dug deep and he pulled himself shakily to his talon-like feet. This time he did not speak. He sang.

'_Whose knock, knock, knockin' at my door?_

_Why it's me, the bogeyman, of course!'_

He repeated those same words, over and over again until Jason was disoriented and confused. His vision was blurred and his skin had turned almost to white. The creature had transformed in a human, almost. He had skin and hair and his eyes were now light brown. He released Jason from his torturous grip and backed away. The grin was still plastered on his face, reaching from one ear to the other. He whistled loudly, and after a moment a hurricane of snow came down from the sky and enveloped the creature, making him almost invisible to Jason. It lifted him from the ground, levitation him a few feet into the air, and then the man vanished as suddenly as he had appeared.


	7. Chapter 7

/ I made a few changes to try and improve Hercules' part, so I hope it's better :) And I'm sorry this took so long! *again*/

The courtyard was eerily silent and devoid of life, and Ariadne found herself frightened for the first in a long time. She tried to tell herself that her fears were irrational, but how could she when she did not know what it was that she was afraid of? She stood under an archway, her cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders to keep out the chill. Surrounded by shadow, she saw herself as being trapped where she stood and unwilling to risk stepping into the darkness. In the shadows, she thought she saw something move.

'Who's there?' Ariadne called out, her voice louder than she'd expected. She continued to walk backwards, only stopping when her back hit the moss-covered wall. The sudden contact caused her to flinch and stumble forwards again. A low giggle broke the deafening silence. Ariadne searched the darkness frantically.

'I warn you, I am armed!' Her father had always told her it was best to run from danger if she had the chance. He had always said it was best to worry about yourself and leave the protecting to the men, and of course she had always taken his advice to heart. She had never been left alone in a dangerous situation, always surrounded by guards or her father or safe in her chambers while the men fought the bad guys. But now she was alone and she was afraid. She knew she could call out for help, there was usually a guard nearby at all times no matter how far she strayed into the gardens, but she also knew that it could take the guard a while to reach her and she could easily be dead in the time it took.

A chill ran up her spine as she felt a cool breeze blow against her cheek. It felt as if someone was stood beside her, breathing on her, but she saw nothing from the corner of her eye and she was too afraid to look.

'_Knock knock._' Ariadne screamed and fled from the archway, giving no thought to which direction she was running. In the distance she saw the safe lights of the palace and she willed her legs to move faster, to take her home and to her father. But as she neared the stone staircase, a hand gripped her ankle and pulled her to the ground. She winced as her forehead smacked against the concrete and a devilish face loomed over her. It's face was so close to Ariadne's that she could feel the ice cold of its skin against her own. She looked fearfully into a pair of soulless black eyes and tried to wriggle free of the trance they had placed upon her.

'_Peek-a-boo.' _A long, snake-like tongue protruded from the creatures gnawed lips and stuck itself to Ariadne's cheek. The woman opened her mouth to scream, but before she could make any sound an icy claw dug into her stomach and her skin turned to ice. Ariadne's world crumbled around her and faded to blackness, and suddenly she was no longer in the palace grounds but in a place that was almost as empty as the eyes she had so recently stared into. The air was thick and empty of oxygen, and she struggled to breathe. The last thing she saw before her eyes closed was a hand reaching out towards her.

/

The night was calm and silent as Hercules stumbled drunk through the marketplace. It must have been close to 4am and the city was empty. Hercules whistled a merry tune as he reached the front door to his home. He was sure that his friends would have worked out their small argument and he'd hoped that the atmosphere would be less tense and uncomfortable. He hated to see his friends upset in_ any _way, but when they were upset with each _other, _he found it almost unbearable.

'Boys?' The kitchen was empty. Hercules stumbled towards Pythgoras' closed bedroom door and struggled to open it. He grasped the doorknob and turned it the wrong way, again and again, without realizing it, and after letting out a groan of frustration he leaned his forehead against the wood and decided to knock instead.

'Pythagoras are you in there?' He was met with silence. It wasn't like Pythagoras to ignore him, to ignore _anyone_, and it was even less like him to be out at this time of night. Pythagoras was not dissimilar to a housecat; he slept and ate and slept some more and he only left the house when he was forced to. Not that Hercules minded much; he rather enjoyed coming home to a tidy house and a plate of food on the table, no matter how little that plate of food may be.

'Are you still in a bad mood?' Hercules moved to the table and collapsed into the nearest chair. The moon shone in through the window, lighting up most of the room and shining into Hercules' eyes. He didn't mind. It comforted him, made him feel as if he was less alone in this small, cramped house that held so many of his memories, both good and bad. He picked up a jug and took a drink of the stale water that it held. It tasted of dirt and he spat it out the second it passed his lips. He let out a sigh and leaned his head on the table. Lately, they had been unable to find any money, and it was showing. All three men had lost considerable amounts of weight, Pythagoras more than anyone. His collarbones stuck out more, and his face was becoming gaunt. A lot of the time that the two men assumed Hercules was out drinking, he was in fact searching for a job. He'd been all around the city, begging shopkeepers and merchants, he'd even asked the owner of the Tavern for a cleaning job. He was becoming desperate for food and clean water, they all were. Hercules knew that much worse would come to them if they didn't figure something out soon. They were barely holding on to the house at it was, struggling to pay the rent. The thought of losing his friends terrified him.

Hercules pushed to his feet and walked towards his bed. The sun would be rising soon, and he intended to talk some sense into Jason and Pythagoras when they returned.

/

He was cold, there was no denying that. But what was cold, really? Other than a feeling, an emotion of sorts that made the hair on your arms stand and Goosebumps appear on your flesh. Pythagoras assumed that if he focused hard enough on being warm it would eventually become reality, but his mind was too far gone. He could do nothing but stare at the charred pile of logs in front of him praying to the God's that it would somehow re-light and bring warmth to him once again. His hands were frozen to the ground and his hair had turned white, and his skin was slowly turning blue. It should have frightened him, but all he felt was numbness now.

A figure kept appearing in his mind, but he did not recognise it. It was a man. That much he knew. He was tanned and warm and alive, and Pythagoras yearned to fall into his arms and absorb the heat that he felt radiate from him. His hand reached out to the stranger but Pythagoras was grasping thin air. The feeling of emptiness was slowly taking over his body, and Pythagoras knew his time was running out. He could feel himself fading from the earth that he loved so dearly and it terrified him. But then the man spoke, and his voice sounded like hope.

'You don't look so good.' Pythagoras tried to lift his head from the ground, but his neck was stiff and it hurt too much.

'Anyone would think you were dying.' The man chuckled warmly, and Pythagoras was slightly relieved when he appeared in his line of vision. He looked the same as he had just moments earlier, only now Pythagoras knew he must be real. The man rubbed his hands together and looked down at Pythagoras pitifully.

'Oh, come on Pythagoras, don't look so glum! What's the worst that could happen?'

'Wh-w... Who...' Pythagoras' voice was weak and almost unheard over the wind that whistled through the trees.

'Oh Pythagoras,' The man knelt beside him and smiled sadly. He leaned in close to Pythagoras and lifted a hand to his cheek, brushing a small patch of snow from his skin.

'It's me. Don't you remember?' Though tried his best, no name came to Pythagoras.

'Who-who are you?' The man smiled and ran his thumb across Pythagoras' lips. The touch sent a spark through Pythagoras, warming his face and his neck almost instantly.

'I'm Jason.'


End file.
